"Yeah. I do." And she wasn't happy about it, either, as her tone and expression probably made obvious. Actually, Morgan doubted anyone here was happy about their situation, but most of them weren't missing out on as many pieces o' eight per day as she was.
Now that she heard more of his voice, the Spanish accent was obvious. It was a common one around the Caribbean--not far off from DeCava's, really--which made her wonder if this was another citizen of the beautiful and lucrative Tri-Island Area. She'd never seen anyone around there (or anywhere) with ears that pointed, though. And Morgan had been around the navigational charts a few times.
The mention of a grand heroic venture piqued her curiosity again, too. Morgan could relate. "Something like that happened to me not long ago too," she found herself replying on impulse. Volunteering information about herself wasn't usually something she was big on--at least not to people whose legendary reputations didn't precede them--but that seemed pretty harmless, and the coincidence was striking. After a beat, she made a calculated decision and added, "Well, actually, I snuck aboard the ship heading toward the heroic venture to capture a guy and bring him back to my client, but...guess I ended up involved anyway." Way too involved. Sword-through-the-gut involved. Not her finest professional moment, to say the least.
Zevran couldn't help but laugh. It came out uncontrolled and natural, and with it there was both affection and bitterness towards his situation and hers. On some level, he felt for the woman. They both had their own reasons and their own ghosts that haunted them, but Zevran knew the unease of finding yourself part of something unexpected. An ally to those who moments ago you wanted to ruin, for purely objective reasons. Maybe she had taken to it better than Zevran had, but it seemed that the lady understood him more than she knew.
Of course, Zevran had been asked to wipe Amell and Alistair off the map, not simply capture them. He was an assassin, not a bounty hunter, after all. Kidnapping was so messy, but he supposed there was more money in it compared to your garden variety assassin, which Zevran was not. He sometimes wondered where he would be if he had managed to kill the Wardens, but realized it was a pointless exercise. He would be exactly where he had been for the previous twenty-something years. Back then, nothing he ever built had amounted to anything. It was all too easily destroyed. He couldn't protect any of it. Even his own life could be snuffed out, and no one would miss him for very long. Perhaps joining Amell's band of misfits hadn't been a good decision, but it had been the best one Zevran had ever made.
"I understand, and I am not even being placating when I say that," he responded cheerfully. "One moment I am stalking my target for the kill, and before I know it, I have been taken under his wing like another charity case. It was quite a scandalous decision on his part."
"That'll make it tough to collect," Morgan commented sympathetically. Don't get involved was the cardinal rule of any self-respecting sword-for-hire, and that had never been a problem for her before--not when she was getting paid for the kill, anyway. It was frustrating to have a job get messy, not to mention bad for business.
When she thought about it, though, she couldn't say she was sorry, even for the moments when she'd felt like someone was twisting a blade in her stomach. She was a little sorry for the moments when someone actually had been twisting a blade in her stomach, but...well, she wasn't going to dwell on that. She was okay now, and that was what mattered.
Anyway, there they were, professed (or maybe confessed) fellow professionals. They'd better get the introductions out of the way before they started talking shop--or revealing any more embarrassing personal stories. Morgan gestured to herself with a flourish. "Morgan LeFlay, Mighty Pirate Hunter™."
She wanted to move the topic off leaders of grand heroic ventures who took people who'd recently attacked them under their wings, so she turned her focus to studying the guy again. He looked some years older than Morgan was, but the air of cheerfulness made it hard to tell whether he'd been through the wear to match. "Dual blades?" she guessed. She couldn't be sure, since she hadn't seen him move much, but it was usually obvious which side was someone's sword arm; his muscles looked more evenly developed. "Interesting fighting style. Mind if I ask where you learned?"
"It is truly a pleasure to meet such a beautiful and sharp woman, Madam Morgan," he began, even executing a slight bow from his seated position, although his eyes remained trained on her. She was truly an attractive woman, and his smile had redoubled at the confirmation that she seemed to be equally competent. He had been fortunate enough to be in the company of several brilliant and talented ladies as of recently, but most of them had taken an immediate disliking to him. Zevran was resigned to the fact that his sense of humor simply didn't mesh well with the judgmental and self-important, but Morgan seemed to be neither. She did appear appealingly confident, though, and curious about him.
Her observations were spot on. At the very least, she knew what she was talking about, but Zevran suspected she could back up those words quite proficiently with a sword in hand. Zevran considered for a moment if he should confess to being a Crow, and couldn't come up with many good reasons not to. He wasn't pursuing a mark, and Zevran wasn't terribly secretive about most things. The more he volunteered, the less people pried, after all. Besides, he was no longer a Crow, technically speaking. He could claim the title as much as he liked, but they'd never take him back even if he wanted to go. Anyway, if Morgan had any relation at all to the world he knew, her reaction would be telling. Their professions overlapped, after all.
But on that note, Zevran hadn't met many confessed pirate hunters. And yet, he could see why they'd be desired. Under normal circumstances, the lack of interaction between assassin and pirate hunter would simply be a matter of location, since Crows didn't take many assignments on the high seas. (Zevran had been meeting a lot of seafarers lately, now that he thought about it.) But all of this theorizing and preemptive excuse making was probably irrelevant. Zevran was prepared for her to know nothing of the Antivan Crows, or Antiva itself, or darkspawn, or anything else that was a staple of his past for that matter.
"You haven't even seen me in action, my dear!" he laughed, but was openly pleased all the same. "Although I confess, you are right about me so far. I am Zevran, of the Antivan Crows. Normally my, ah, association would need no introduction, but since things are different here... The Crows are an infamous guild of assassins who happened to purchase me young, and I was a model student. Twenty or so years and a betrayal later, here I am! Although this most recent development doesn't fit into the story quite as well."
Now that she heard more of his voice, the Spanish accent was obvious. It was a common one around the Caribbean--not far off from DeCava's, really--which made her wonder if this was another citizen of the beautiful and lucrative Tri-Island Area. She'd never seen anyone around there (or anywhere) with ears that pointed, though. And Morgan had been around the navigational charts a few times.
The mention of a grand heroic venture piqued her curiosity again, too. Morgan could relate. "Something like that happened to me not long ago too," she found herself replying on impulse. Volunteering information about herself wasn't usually something she was big on--at least not to people whose legendary reputations didn't precede them--but that seemed pretty harmless, and the coincidence was striking. After a beat, she made a calculated decision and added, "Well, actually, I snuck aboard the ship heading toward the heroic venture to capture a guy and bring him back to my client, but...guess I ended up involved anyway." Way too involved. Sword-through-the-gut involved. Not her finest professional moment, to say the least.
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Of course, Zevran had been asked to wipe Amell and Alistair off the map, not simply capture them. He was an assassin, not a bounty hunter, after all. Kidnapping was so messy, but he supposed there was more money in it compared to your garden variety assassin, which Zevran was not. He sometimes wondered where he would be if he had managed to kill the Wardens, but realized it was a pointless exercise. He would be exactly where he had been for the previous twenty-something years. Back then, nothing he ever built had amounted to anything. It was all too easily destroyed. He couldn't protect any of it. Even his own life could be snuffed out, and no one would miss him for very long. Perhaps joining Amell's band of misfits hadn't been a good decision, but it had been the best one Zevran had ever made.
"I understand, and I am not even being placating when I say that," he responded cheerfully. "One moment I am stalking my target for the kill, and before I know it, I have been taken under his wing like another charity case. It was quite a scandalous decision on his part."
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When she thought about it, though, she couldn't say she was sorry, even for the moments when she'd felt like someone was twisting a blade in her stomach. She was a little sorry for the moments when someone actually had been twisting a blade in her stomach, but...well, she wasn't going to dwell on that. She was okay now, and that was what mattered.
Anyway, there they were, professed (or maybe confessed) fellow professionals. They'd better get the introductions out of the way before they started talking shop--or revealing any more embarrassing personal stories. Morgan gestured to herself with a flourish. "Morgan LeFlay, Mighty Pirate Hunter™."
She wanted to move the topic off leaders of grand heroic ventures who took people who'd recently attacked them under their wings, so she turned her focus to studying the guy again. He looked some years older than Morgan was, but the air of cheerfulness made it hard to tell whether he'd been through the wear to match. "Dual blades?" she guessed. She couldn't be sure, since she hadn't seen him move much, but it was usually obvious which side was someone's sword arm; his muscles looked more evenly developed. "Interesting fighting style. Mind if I ask where you learned?"
Reply
Her observations were spot on. At the very least, she knew what she was talking about, but Zevran suspected she could back up those words quite proficiently with a sword in hand. Zevran considered for a moment if he should confess to being a Crow, and couldn't come up with many good reasons not to. He wasn't pursuing a mark, and Zevran wasn't terribly secretive about most things. The more he volunteered, the less people pried, after all. Besides, he was no longer a Crow, technically speaking. He could claim the title as much as he liked, but they'd never take him back even if he wanted to go. Anyway, if Morgan had any relation at all to the world he knew, her reaction would be telling. Their professions overlapped, after all.
But on that note, Zevran hadn't met many confessed pirate hunters. And yet, he could see why they'd be desired. Under normal circumstances, the lack of interaction between assassin and pirate hunter would simply be a matter of location, since Crows didn't take many assignments on the high seas. (Zevran had been meeting a lot of seafarers lately, now that he thought about it.) But all of this theorizing and preemptive excuse making was probably irrelevant. Zevran was prepared for her to know nothing of the Antivan Crows, or Antiva itself, or darkspawn, or anything else that was a staple of his past for that matter.
"You haven't even seen me in action, my dear!" he laughed, but was openly pleased all the same. "Although I confess, you are right about me so far. I am Zevran, of the Antivan Crows. Normally my, ah, association would need no introduction, but since things are different here... The Crows are an infamous guild of assassins who happened to purchase me young, and I was a model student. Twenty or so years and a betrayal later, here I am! Although this most recent development doesn't fit into the story quite as well."
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